Poetic? I think not.

Tonight, I don't really have much to enlighten anyone on.
So, in order to save you the immense dissatisfaction in what could be possibly the most drawn-out series of thoughts that will ultimately culminate in nothing gained...
I present a poem for your enjoyment.
It is thus far untitled. (I'm working on it.)

What if we bought time, and gave it a home?
Would we use it, or lose it?
Should we feed it, or mistreat it?
Could we cherish it, or demolish it?

Could it be kept on a leash, and would it come when we called it?

Should we watch it try, or let it die, or hope for it to satisfy?
Would it leave us in suspense, or make amends?
Come to greet you, or try to defeat you?
Would it give you a helping hand, or push your face into the sand?

Whether for or against us,
Completed or commenced for us,
Sitting, standing, or lying down for us,
Smiling, worrying, or crying for us,

Time will not let us down.

Stormy Skies

I'm kind of a weird kid. I strongly prefer a raging thunderstorm, complete with downpour and high winds, to a bright sunny day. The sun is nice and all, but I've found I suffer from a peculiar sort of complex during sunny days. As I sit in my room doing whatever it is that occupies my time currently, whether it be guitar playing, trumpeting or MouseHunt, (mostly MouseHunt), on a sunny day I will be plagued with a sense of guilt that I am not outside enjoying the beautiful day. It's almost enough to cause me a bit of stress in that I am doing nothing productive, when I could easily be outside, presumably doing something a bit more constructive. The logic behind that is a tad flawed, however; as being outside, in the long run, will not typically bring about any sort of major life improvement, more so than remaining inside. Back to my main point, however, on a night such as this where it is pouring rain, I can find solace in knowing that everyone else, much like myself, is sitting inside doing absolutely nothing of particular interest. The truth is, I'm more inclined to want to take a nice leisurely walk outside in the middle of a thunderstorm than I am on a sunny day. Then I remember that rain gets you really wet. Stupid obvious common sense, ruining what could be an excellent idea.

Comparable to last week, which was nothing short of the lowest level of hell, this week breezed on by quicker than the winds I can hear whistling outside, or faster than the flash of lightning that zigzagged through the sky just now.

Have I mentioned that I believe that thunderstorms are incredibly beautiful?

In the moment that I revelled in the beauty of the raging thunderstorm just now, I've had an epiphany. Much of what I find so endearing about thunderstorms is what I typically look for in a girl. An obvious sense of beauty, and not necessarily superficial beauty, (perhaps such as a sunny day?), but a sense of beauty that one finds after an analysis of what one believes to be beautiful. In a nutshell, I mean to say that a less obvious, but once discovered, very powerful beauty occurs. Not the kind that makeup or clothing can endorse, more of an intrinsic sense of beauty one can only discover for themselves. Secondly, a certain strength exists in a thunderstorm, no arguing that. I also find a sense of strength very attractive in a girl; the fact that they can endure a period of emotional or physical stress with relative ease, much as I am able to. Lastly, a thunderstorm has a sense of spontaneity to it, because one never knows when the next flash of lightning is going to occur, or a crack of thunder, or a sudden downpour of rain. I feel the same should hold true for a girl; that a bit of unpredictability always keeps things interesting.

I know what you're thinking; of course I've got girls on the brain.
I'm a teenage boy, and as my parents would say, raging with hormones.
Although I must admit, the fact that I compared a thunderstorm to desirable traits in a girl is a bit beyond my typical cogitative scope, and frankly I am a bit surprised by my discovery.
Funny what kind of realizations can occur at 1 in the morning, isn't it?

¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo!

I'm not entirely sure why my blogs are invariably written around 11 p.m. Are the moments before I go to sleep somehow more psychologically stimulating than if, say, I had decided to write this after getting home from school?

I just realized what I said there. School drains the mental capacity right out of me, and writing directly afterward would only serve to get a sentence or two about how terrible school was.
I now pause to go on a mini-rant about school.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a good kid and stay in school, I don't cut class, I (usually) finish all of my homework, but something about the setting of an educational facility annoys the living hell out of me. I have somewhat of a creative and logical capacity for thought, I believe. My sense of logic and analysis is fairly adequate. However, the setting of school completely oppresses all of my sense of rational thought. Something about the aura of a classroom provides me with an all-encompassing sense of indifference. I can't bring myself to use the sense of logic and analysis that I typically enjoy. Teachers often ask me why I glaze over in class, why my in-school writing activities are less proficient than they should be, and why my participation is less-than-average. I don't know. School is a sedative for me. Fortunately, this does not extend to any sort of exams. In actuality, I am a very successful test taker and essay writer, but only when subjected to the pressure of an exam. I suppose it is only in conditions of informality that my laziness kicks in.

So much for a mini-rant. I had a great deal more to say than I had expected. Such is common in my advanced state of lethargy.

This week has been somewhat unkind to me thus far. The only saving grace from being in a terrible mood is the remaining euphoria of Junior Prom. It's actually quite the phenomenon, I had not planned on attending it until two days before. It's funny how fate steps in when life's got you down, isn't it? I had an excellent time, and even had a date! What are the odds? Me with a date?
Ha. Feel free to scoff. I know you will.

Anyway, it's high time I hit the sheets. Good night, all! ¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo!